Punch Drunk
by MidnightBlue88
Summary: A week after detention, Brian reunites the Breakfast Club in the messiest way possible: by getting completely trashed at a party. Will the others be able to get him home in one piece without killing one another along the way?


**Disclaimer:** These characters are not mine. Except for Andy, obviously. Don't worry, I'm taking good care of him.

**Summary:** A week after detention, Brian reunites the Breakfast Club in the messiest way possible: by getting completely and totally drunk. Will the others be able to get him home in one piece without killing one another along the way?

**Rating:** T for language, illegal substance abuse and bad humor.

**A/N:** This story is a response to my own challenge, which I issued in the forums and no one else answered (jerks), so I decided to go ahead and do it myself. Basically, it goes like this: I have five lines that I have to incorporate into the story, and each one has to be spoken by a different character. I have the lines bolded (at least I hope they are…), so you can see how I used them. The lines are as follows:

"Of course I'm eighteen."  
"I prefer bourbon."  
"I think it's broken."  
"Don't look at me like that."  
"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard in my whole life."

I think you can figure out the rest from there. Enjoy!

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Chapter One: Jell-O Shots

* * *

Brian Johnson was having a marvelous time.

He'd been to parties before, of course. Birthday parties mostly, and a couple of bat mitzvahs. Most of them involved clowns. Nothing too exciting, though he certainly thought they were fun at the time. A couple of them even got a little rowdy, especially when his friend Steve got into a fist fight with Kirk Jurgenson for being his high score on Space Invaders, and the two of them broke a table in Steve's living room. He'd thought that was pretty intense, but nothing – _nothing_ – could prepare him for Saturday night at Jacob Winston's house while his parents were in Florida celebrating their twentieth wedding anniversary.

He hadn't exactly been invited to the party, but Brian figured that was more of a technicality than anything, because he estimated that there were anywhere from 80 to 115 people there, and he didn't see anyone else carrying an invitation. Nevertheless, he wouldn't have even considered going if his friend Cal hadn't convinced him that it would be a good idea. Cal apparently had a rather large crush on Laura Davis, who he overheard in study hall on Friday talking about how awesome Jacob's party was going to be. Cal was convinced that if she just got to know him under different circumstances that maybe she would look at him differently, or at least make out with him while she was really, really drunk. Brian, who had seen Laura Davis in her cheerleading uniform and was pretty sure that Cal had no chance with her whatsoever, agreed to go with him as his "wingman", so to speak.

It was pretty much the best decision he'd ever made. After a horrible week, one of the worst on record, he was looking forward to kicking back and having a good time. Maybe he would even make some new friendships, since the ones he'd made last weekend weren't exactly working out the way he'd hoped. No, that was an understatement, wasn't it? More like not working out at all, since not one of them had bothered to say a single word to him during the course of the entire week. Liars. Phonies. Jerks. He didn't think he'd ever been so angry in his entire life.

The alcohol was helping with that, though. Especially those little cups of colored, fruit-flavored things – Jell-O shots, the girl had called them. He liked the cherry ones the best. They tasted like melted popsicles, though popsicles had never made him giggle so much. Or talk. And he must have spilled some on his shirt or something because people were starting to look at him funny, or maybe they just couldn't understand what he was talking about. Honestly now. Everyone knew that the Baconian Method was a far more useful tool of inductive methodology than anything Aristotle ever came up with.

It didn't, however, help him figure out how he ended up sprawled out under Jacob Winston's back porch, with Jacob's cat licking his nose and one of his shoes missing.

* * *

"Oh, God! Brian, are you okay?"

Brian's eyes flew open, then fluttered closed again. "Yes, mom," he replied instinctively.

"He's gone," replied another voice, this one deeper and obviously male. "Get that cat off of his stomach."

Brian felt a large pressure being lifted from his chest, and a cat meowed in protest. He tried to tell the voices that he liked cats, but his mouth wasn't working properly.

"What do we do with him? We can't just leave him here!"

"Well, I don't know what you expect me to do, Claire. I doubt he's here by himself. Why don't we find the person he came with and get them to take him home?"

"How are we supposed to do that?"

There was a pause. "I don't know, find the dorkiest person here?"

"Andy!"

"Well, I don't know! What do you suggest?"

There was a long moment of silence, and then Brian felt a cool hand resting against his forehead. "Brian," she said quietly. "You have to wake up and tell us who you came with."

Brian opened his eyes and tried his best to focus in on the person who was talking to him. Light blue sweater, black leggings. Pale face, red hair. Pink lips and worried eyes.

"Claire?" he asked, not believing his own eyes, and for good reason.

Claire sighed. "Brian, what are you doing here? Have you been drinking?"

"I think that's pretty obvious," the other voice interjected. Brian blinked, and Andy came into focus. Was he dreaming or something?

"You're not helping," said Claire. She turned back to Brian, who could do nothing but just stare back at her dumbly. "Who did you come here with, Brian?"

Cal. Where was he, anyway? Maybe he'd gotten lucky and he was making out with Laura Davis in one of the upstairs bedrooms right now. Brian felt himself grinning. "Laura Davis," he replied, giggling.

Andy let out a sharp chuckle. "Oh, I doubt that."

Claire shot him an irritated glare, but didn't say anything. She turned back to Brian, started rummaging around in his pockets and – Oh, Lord, what was she doing down there? – pulled out his wallet. "Let me check his license. It'll tell us where he lives."

"And then what?"

"And then we'll drive him home."

"We?"

"Yes, _we_." Claire pulled a card out of his wallet and squinted into the darkness. "319 Pecan Grove. Where is that?"

"I don't know, and it doesn't matter," said Andy. "That's a fake I.D."

"How do you know?"

"Because he showed it to me in detention. Look, it says that he's 68."

"Oh, God. How do we find out where he lives then?"

"I don't know, ask him?"

"Brian." Claire was touching his face again, and it felt really good. "Brian, where do you live?"

That was a really silly question, one that Brian thought deserved a really silly answer. "Jupiter," he said, erupting into a fit of giggles.

"Oh, Jesus," Andy muttered.

Claire stood up, leaving Brian lying under the porch, head sticking out so that all he could see above him were stars. Actually, it was more like a mass of swirling dots on a piece of black construction paper. And it was making him dizzy. He closed his eyes.

"Help him up."

"What are we going to do with him?"

"We'll put him in my car. Where is his other shoe?"

"Over there. To your right."

"I don't see it."

"Underneath the bush."

"Oh."

"What are you going to do when we get him into the car?"

"I'm going to take him home."

"But you don't even know where he lives."

"Would you rather leave him under the porch?"

There was a long moment where no one said anything, and then Brian felt himself being hauled to his feet, or rather his ankles, since he was finding it difficult to stand up straight. Andy tucked his shoulder under Brian's armpit and wrapped his arm around Brian's back for support. "Can you try and walk?" he yelled into Brian's ear.

Brian squeezed his eyes shut. "Loud."

Andy sighed, and Brian felt his warm breath against his neck. "Let's go out the side gate. I don't want to have to drag him through the house."

Somehow Brian found his feet, and he managed to put one leg in front of the other, even though he was moving really slowly. Everything in front of him seemed to be at an angle. It was like one of those mazes where you have a ball in a wooden box, and you use the handles on either side to tilt the box from one side to the other, navigating the ball through the maze until it reached the center. He felt like someone, maybe God, was tilting the earth from side to side just to see if he could walk in a straight line.

"Hey, what's--"

And then everything went black.

* * *

"Oh, my God! What did you do?"

Andy looked up from Brian's body, which was lying in a messy pile at his feet, and glared at Claire. "I didn't _do_ anything. He hit his head on the tree branch."

Claire looked like she was about to have a heart attack from all of the commotion. "Well, pick him up!" she shouted.

"What the hell did you think I was going to do?" Andy retorted, a shot of anger surging through his body. "Stop bossing me around, will you? I'm not your butler."

"I didn't say you were!"

"Well, you're acting like it," said Andy. "I didn't have to come out here, you know." And it was the truth. He was having a great time inside, watching Frank do body shots off of Jill Peterson's stomach, which was as flat as a sheet of plywood and a hell of a lot smoother. He was also three beers in, feeling slightly buzzed, and looking forward to at least half a dozen more before the night was over. It had been a pretty shitty week, and all he wanted was to get drunk and forget about everything for a few blissful hours.

"Didn't have to come out here?" Claire echoed incredulously. "Of course you did, Andy! Were you going to leave him out here all by himself?"

No, of course he wasn't going to. He wasn't _that_ much of an asshole. "It's not my fault he's here. Besides, why do you even care?"

Claire glared at him for about the eight hundredth time, but he could see that she was uncomfortable by the question. "I do care."

"Why?"

Claire's eyes softened. "I couldn't just leave him here," she said quietly. "He was all alone."

Andy pursed his lips together awkwardly and let out a deep breath through his nostrils. "Why is he even here?"

Claire shrugged. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Well, yeah. If we knew, then we might be able to find his friends."

"Maybe he came by himself."

Andy frowned. "Why would he do that? He doesn't know anyone else here." He paused. "Except us."

Claire ignored him and knelt down next to Brian, grabbing his face with her hands. "Wake up, Brian. We're going to take you home."

"I didn't realize you'd grown so attached."

Andy looked up to see John Bender standing a few feet away, on the edge of the front lawn next to the driveway. He was wearing a pair of shredded black jeans and a black leather jacket, along with an irritatingly smug expression.

"What are you doing here?" Andy blurted.

"Oh, trust me, I'm invited," Bender replied mysteriously, stepping forward. He glanced down at Brian, who was still in a heap at Andy's feet. "Have the two of you adopted him?" he asked, directing his question at Claire, who had pulled her hands away from Brian's face but was still crouched next to him. "Most couples start with a dog, maybe a ferret…"

Claire seemed like she was still trying to recover from Bender's sudden entrance. "He passed out," she explained unnecessarily. "We're trying to get him home."

Bender squatted down next to Brian's body and flicked the tip of his index finger along Brian's lower lip, which was bright red with some kind of syrup. "I'm guessing Jello-shots?"

Andy rolled his eyes. "You think?"

"Yeah, I do," Bender replied smoothly. "But I wasn't there, was I?"

Andy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to warm himself up. The temperature had dropped, and suddenly his letter jacket wasn't doing much to fend off the cold. "I wasn't there either," said Andy. "We just found him out here, passed out."

"And you thought you'd do the noble thing and nurse him back to health?" Bender smiled sadly, wiping an imaginary tear from his cheek. "That's so sweet, guys. Really, it is."

This time, it was Bender that earned one of Claire's icy glares. "We're just taking him home."

"Ah." Bender stood up straight and dusted his hands off on the front of his jeans. "That's still very sweet of you. Good practice for when the two of you have your own children, no?"

Claire's eyes widened, but Andy figured it was best to just ignore the comment before Bender earned himself a punch in the balls. He knelt down beside Brian and snaked a hand under his arms, lifting him halfway into the air. "Come on, Brian. Wake up!"

"I don't think he can hear you," Bender offered helpfully.

"Shut up," Andy muttered, pulling Brian up a little bit more. Either he weighed more than he looked, or Andy was drunker than he realized.

"Help him!" Claire exclaimed, looking straight at Bender. "Get his other side."

Bender looked like he was about to say something stupid, but he must have decided against it because he reached forward and grabbed Brian's other arm. The two of them stood up together, pulling Brian up with them. His head fell forward, rolling about uselessly against his chest.

"Jesus, how many of those did he have?" asked Bender, grunting softly as he struggled to accommodate Brian's weight.

"I don't know," replied Andy. "A lot. Come on, let's get him to the car."

Claire opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of a gate opening behind them. Andy turned to see that the person who lived next door to Jacob had come out of her own backyard and was standing behind them, watching them curiously.

Allison.

Andy was so surprised that he nearly dropped Brian. "What are _you _doing here?"

Allison lifted her eyebrows in mock surprise. "Are you going to greet everyone that way?"

Andy couldn't do anything but stare. He hadn't seen her all week, and he had to admit that her appearance wasn't entirely welcome under the circumstances. From the way she was watching him, he could tell that it wasn't the reunion that she had been hoping for either.

"Do you live here?" Claire asked, motioning towards the house to her right.

"No, I just like to sneak into their backyard," Allison deadpanned.

Claire pursed her lips together irritably. "Were you watching us?"

Allison shrugged, and Andy noticed for the first time that she'd gotten a haircut since last weekend. It wasn't too much shorter, but it was enough that it wasn't hanging in her face anymore.

"I hate to break up this little reunion," Bender interjected, "but Brainiac's gettin' a little heavy and I have somewhere I need to be. Think we could get this show on the road?"

Allison was still watching Andy closely, obviously waiting for him to respond, but he forced himself to look over at Claire. "Where's your car?" he asked her.

Claire motioned down the driveway. "Across the street. It's the white Buick."

Andy shifted slightly to keep Brian upright. "Okay, let's go then."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Andy turned back to look at Allison, who hadn't moved from her spot by the gate. "Like what?" he asked, dreading her response.

Instead of replying verbally, Allison stepped forward and grabbed something from the ground. Brian's shoe, the one they'd found under the bush by the patio. "Oh," said Andy.

Allison walked around in front of Brian and knelt down, grabbing his foot. She shoved the shoe into place and tied the laces up so that it wouldn't fall off again. As she worked, Andy realized that everyone was watching her, even Bender. No one said a word.

Except Brian, who had suddenly decided that now was a perfect time to regain consciousness. "Allison?" he slurred, squinting into the darkness.

Allison pulled herself up to her feet so that she was standing in front of him at eye level. "Hi, Brian," she said quietly.

Brian frowned and looked to his right, where Bender was watching him with an amused expression on his face. "Bender?"

"Hey, Dorkface."

Brian blinked a couple of times, then looked back at Allison. He was staring at her with a confused expression on his face, obviously hoping that she could explain what was going on. "Am I dreaming?" he asked her.

Allison shook her head, almost sadly. "No, you're drunk."

Brian paused, then burst out laughing. "Oh, yeah. I forgot."

And then he leaned forward and threw up all over his shoes.

* * *

**A/N:** Right, so you might have noticed that I didn't use any of the quotes in this chapter. That's because this is going to be a short series, and I'm going to incorporate them into the upcoming chapters. Now, I know I probably have no business posting a new series before I finish at least one of my old ones, but this was kind of a spur of the moment story, and I couldn't help but post it right away. Forgive me? Pretty please?

I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. Please review!


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